by Katy Haye
“Your highness.” I sank into a curtsy; it seemed the safest thing to do.
“If you would like a maid summoned for a chaperone, you only have to say the word.” Prince Jaran was smiling, but kindly, as though he understood my nerves, not as though he were irritated or amused by them.
I lifted my chin, gathering all my scattered courage. “I would prefer if we were alone, then we might speak freely.”
His brows flashed up. “We are at court – do you consider free speech a good thing?”
I wasn’t sure whether he was teasing me – or testing me. “I consider there’s little point to this meeting if we can’t be candid with each other. You surely don’t expect to make a decision with no information to base it on?”
“Very true.” He stepped back, welcoming me in. The turn of his body showed a games board set out on a small table with a seat either side. “I thought a game might break the ice. Do you play?”
My lips twitched. “I suspect I will not be up to your standard, but I know the rules of nine dragons gold. I will do my best not to disgrace myself.”
We took our seats. The prince was still smiling good-naturedly. “I hope you don’t think I’ve chosen this to show off. I would have thought a walk outside would suit you better, but that is sadly impossible today.” He glanced at the windows, where rain beat steadily against the glass. “And this will give us a focus as we talk.”
I reached for the counters, selecting to play red, lining up the counters in three stacks of three on my side of the board. “You hardly need to show off, your highness. We are all as impressed as we ever need to be.”
He laughed. “Oh, but are you really?” He selected the gold counters, arranging them in his palm, his slim fingers working them into two rows.
“Of course, your highness. How could we not be?”
“Perhaps because, having met me, you realise a prince is just a man, little different from your brother, perhaps.”
I snorted before I could control my reaction. “You are nothing like my brother, your highness, I assure you that!”
His lips twitched. “I am reassured to meet your approval.” He fell silent, his attention falling to the pieces in his hand. “I have a favour to ask you, Hanna.”
“Yes, your highness?”
He looked up, his amber eyes pinning mine. Heat rose unbidden in my chest. “While we are in private, would you call me by name? I should like to know how it sounds in your voice.”
Heat surged through me, suffusing my face. A break with protocol, that was all, but it felt outrageously intimate. “I – I – I will try,” I cleared my throat, “Jaran.”
“Thank you,” he murmured, and the flames in my face burned higher. He waved a slim hand towards the board. “Guest plays first.”
I selected the topmost piece from the middle stack and debated a moment before placing it. Nine dragons gold was a game of strategy rather than luck, but I’d never taken the time to understand what plays and counterplays were the most assured of success. I’d only played at the house of compassion for fun. I hadn’t known the skill would be necessary at court – nor that I’d ever be invited to court. Now, I felt as though I were being tested. I knew enough of the prince to guess that he wouldn’t like to be deliberately lost to – and yet I wasn’t sure I was anywhere near good enough to provide him with a challenging match.
But if I never placed my piece, we would never start at all. I set my red counter down on one of the corners.
The prince made his play on a different part of the board entirely.
I placed my second counter on the next corner along from my first. I couldn’t believe that the prince would allow me to set three in a row so soon, but there was always the chance that luck would favour me and he would somehow overlook the move.
He didn’t. He set his next counter in-between my two, blocking the line.
“I am pleased to see you are making friends with the other candidates.”
I blinked. Naturally, the prince knew everything going on inside the palace. Although, with the exception of Rannyl, I would hardly call us friends. “There is little point to us being at each other’s throats.” I placed my next counter.
“Harmony is a noble intention.” He set his gold piece on the board and returned his attention to me. “Don’t you think?”
“Of course.” My heart thumped, as though I feared he was trying to catch me out, but it was a straightforward question. “Isn’t that why we have treaties with our neighbouring countries?”
“Harmony is cheaper than war.”
“That is very pragmatic.” Red counter held between thumb and finger, I regarded him. “I don’t believe money is the only reason you made a treaty with the fae, for example.”
He smiled. “Ah, that was mostly due to firestone.”
I nodded, although I wasn’t sure what firestone actually was. Some sort of a weapon, which had stopped the Surran king in his tracks. “And yet, your father would have gone to war despite the cost.” I hoped I understood matters properly; I should never have moved the conversation into politics.
“We have different goals for the country,” he stated, placing his next piece.
“And what is your goal for Muirland?” I asked, genuinely interested.
“You will chide me for being pragmatic,” he said.
“I wouldn’t dream of chiding a prince,” I replied, studying the board and trying to calculate all the possibilities. It was hopeless; my brain didn’t work that way.
“It is harmony and trade. I wish Muirland to be a place where all are welcome if they bring knowledge or trade – anything of value. I wish we might care not whether someone is fae or Surrana, or Nordinish. Our treaties have eased matters between the countries. Now I wish to create more ease within our great kingdom.”
“That is a laudable intention. I wish you well.”
“You think me naïve.”
“Not in the least. If anyone can do it, you can.” Although, perhaps it was a little naïve. I couldn’t imagine my father wishing to open our borders to all comers.
“Now you think the best of me.” He placed his next piece on the board.
“I hope I am not wrong to think so,” I replied. I scanned his face, but his expression gave nothing away. I was exhausted by our verbal sparring and the game had barely begun. I set my final counter in place. I needed to not lose this game too badly. One thing at a time.
“I hope you are not wrong to think so, either.” The prince – Jaran; how intimate his name seemed without the honorific! – set his final counter on the board and play began in earnest. The intention of the game was to get three pieces in a row, at which success a player could remove one of their opponent’s pieces from the board. The game ended when one player no longer had three counters on the board and couldn’t make a row.
“Tell me something, Hanna.” The prince was intent on the board as he spoke. I liked the sound of my name spoken by him. No wonder he’d asked for me to grant him that boon.
“Yes, Jaran.”
His gaze flicked up to mine, then back to the board. I sensed he was pleased I was obeying his injunction – not that he could doubt I would.
“Do you actually want to be my bride?”
My heart jumped. “O-of course. I would be honoured.” My blood surged in alarm – did he think me indifferent? “I very much want to become your bride.”
He moved a counter and sat back, folding his arms as he watched me steadily. “Why?”
My mouth dried. Such a simple question, such a tiny word – and how in the name of the maker was I to answer? “Who – who wouldn’t want to be a princess?”
“So it is the status that attracts you?”
My stomach lurched. “No!” I blinked, my brain freezing as I tried to find the right words to say. “That is, not only the status. You are – you are very handsome, your highness – Jaran.”
He set his hand on mine and I started at the sudden contact. “Take a breath,
Hanna,” he directed. “I sent the servant away so we could speak candidly. No one save me is listening and I swear your secrets are safe with me.”
My gaze darted nervously to his. Did he really mean that? For a moment I had the mad urge to set it all before him, offload the burden from my shoulders: mama, the potion, my father’s determination, Mage Redmor’s terrifying looks. I took a deep breath as I’d been told, and my fears began to recede. I couldn’t share all my secrets. I didn’t need the prince to rescue me. I would find my own way.
The prince sat back, arms folded. I had his full attention. That was simultaneously scary and reassuring. I turned my gaze on the board, considering my possible moves as my thoughts settled to clarity. “I would like to be chosen for your bride. Being your princess would be a more interesting life than being shut away in the house of compassion on a tiny island most Muirlanders can’t even place on a map.” I took a breath. “And, of course it would be a good thing for my family, raising their profile and influence in the council. My father wants me to be chosen so he will have your ear.” I swallowed. That was a confidence I knew my father wouldn’t want me to share, but I felt no compunction telling the prince. He wasn’t a fool. He would be well aware that as well as the girls themselves, our families were jostling for position. I took another breath. “My father has been clear what he expects of me, and I want to please him, as an obedient daughter should.”
“Are you an obedient daughter?” Jaran asked softly.
“Of course.” My answer was automatic. Then a wave of mischief and anger combined swept over my tongue. “I seldom get the chance to be anything else.”
From the corner of my eye I saw his watchful consideration. “Sons and daughters live very different lives.”
“That’s true.”
“But daughters may break out of the moulds they are placed within. My sister certainly did.”
Princess Jurelle, whose marriage – by choice, to the son of the man she’d been unwillingly promised to – had brought peace between Muirland and Surran.
“I don’t think I am a rebel.”
“Rebellion, I would hope, is rarely needed.”
And that proved he was a son, not a daughter – I wasn’t a rebel, not because it wasn’t needed, but because rebellion was futile.
I made a move, although there was no true strategy behind it. I simply wanted a pause to Jaran’s questions – and his searching attention. “No doubt that is true,” I murmured.
Jaran leaned forward, considering his next move. But that didn’t stop his questions. “So, you wish to be my princess because it will bring honour to your family and you think the role will be interesting.”
He said the words impartially, but I squirmed regardless. He made it sound so ... soulless. He made his move and sat back, awaiting my reply.
I sat forward, then switched my attention from the board to my opponent. “If you wish me to be candid, Jaran,” his lips twitched at my use of his name in such a sharp tone, “Then I can honestly tell you that I have no idea whether I wish to be your wife or not. I barely know you. This is only the second time we’ve been able to speak together. There is nothing in you to excite disgust,” his lips twitched, “But as to whether I could spend my life with you ... that is impossible to say yet.” A thought occurred to me and I smiled. “If pushed at this stage, though, I would say that any man who offers me a gift as magnificent as Glide has gone a long way towards capturing my heart.”
Jaran’s smile widened. The heart I’d just mentioned seemed to expand, warming. “I’m pleased I’m on the right track, Hanna. Let’s see what the next days bring.” He waved a hand at the board, indicating that it was my turn.
I looked down and smiled in triumph, moving one counter to form three in a row. I snatched the closest of his counters into my hand, setting it down on my side of the board.
“Well done, my lady,” Jaran murmured.
But then he moved his own piece. A row that I had not seen coming – and should have blocked with my last move.
“Well done, Jaran,” I murmured.
He took one of my pieces and it was my turn again. I leaned forward, determined not to miss any risks or opportunities this time – only to find that Jaran had two potential options to make rows and I could only block one of them.
“You have outwitted me,” I grumbled, but lightly so he would not think I was taking the matter to heart. I made my move and sat back, watching as he did exactly what I expected: forming a row and taking another of my pieces.
“Victory requires more than enthusiasm,” he said, and I wondered whether he was speaking of our game ... or the much bigger game we were embroiled in. “Sometimes losing a battle is worth it for the sake of winning the war.” He made a row, removed one of my counters and I realised I had lost all hope of victory.
I threw my hands up. “You have entirely routed me, your highness.” I had three counters still, but they were spread around the board. I had little doubt he would capture them all before I was halfway to creating a row. “I must cry surrender.”
“An offer I accept.” His gaze settled on mine. I couldn’t look away. There was such an expression in his eyes. I couldn’t name it, but I could feel the way it reached into my chest, twisting something inside me. “We spoke of obedience earlier,” he said. “But I think it’s not your obedience I am interested in, but your loyalty. Who holds your loyalty, Hanna? Is that also your father?”
My mouth dried while my heart leapt into my throat. He knew of our plot. He had to know. Why else would he ask such a thing? He was waiting for an answer. I cleared my throat. “Yes, I would have to say my father, again.”
“Anyone else?” His tone was gentle, but it was impossible to think past the words. He was setting a trap. I could sense pieces settling around me as though on the board, pinning me in place.
I forced myself to meet his gaze. “M-my mother.” That was truer than claiming loyalty to my father; it was for mama’s sake that I was risking everything. The phial burned against my skin. I longed to glance down and check that it was still hidden, but I couldn’t risk drawing the prince’s attention to it.
Jaran nodded. “Any other?”
I swallowed. I couldn’t remember my mouth ever being as dry as this. “I suppose ... I felt loyalty to my fellow sisters at the house on Senna. The mother there commanded my obedience and loyalty.”
“You were in service to others?”
“Not exactly. I was a guest, but it would have been wrong to sit around and allow others to do all the work when I could be useful.”
“Wrong?” He picked up on my words, brows lifting as though he were genuinely curious.
“If I can do good or be helpful, shouldn’t I do so?”
“Is that why you threw pennies to the crowd when you arrived?”
Ha, so he had learned of that. And his tone gave no hint of disapproval or scorn. “It seemed like something I could do to help those less fortunate.”
He inclined his head. “Tell me more about your life. When not casting pennies to beggars, how did you spend your days?”
“Well...” I started, then stopped. “Forgive me, Jaran, but might I have a glass of water?”
He blinked as though startled by such a mundane need. “Of course, I will call for refreshments.” He rang for a servant and made the request. A moment later the liveried man returned with a tray containing water, cordial and wine – and two glasses.
Awareness lurched through me. The prince had reminded me of the obedience I owed to mama. This was my chance. I could settle matters in my favour right now, and deal with my uneasy conscience at my leisure. The servant smoothly cleared away the games board and placed the tray in its place.
My heart beat overloud and I had to clear my throat once again. “What can I get for you, Jaran?”
I thought he would turn down the offer, my heart cramming into my throat at the idea that I would be thwarted so close to success.
“Just water,” he s
aid. I poured two glasses, then froze, unsure how to take advantage of this opportunity. The phial was still tucked inside my bodice. I needed...
I coughed, the fake gesture becoming real when air caught in my lungs. I coughed harder, turning away from the prince. With one arm lifted and my hand across my face, I plucked out the phial with my other hand. The glass was slippery in my palm. I straightened, recovering my breath. Now, I needed to get the contents into his glass.
Reality froze me. If I was to use the potion, I should have practised beforehand. I didn’t have the sleight of hand to complete the deceit.
“You are recovered, Hanna?”
“Perfectly.” My fingers tightened around the phial. He continued to watch me, not even glancing at the glass I’d poured. With my free hand, I lifted my glass and took a drink, my fingers shaking.
“Look. The rain has finally stopped.”
He looked away, his focus on the gardens outside his window. I set my glass down. This was my chance. I touched the top of the phial. Jaran continued his observations, something mundane about the palace grounds.
I took a deep breath – and tucked the phial back in my bodice. I closed my eyes, feeling as though I had betrayed my mother. But I couldn’t do it. If I couldn’t win fairly, then I didn’t want to win at all. Jaran had done me no harm and I would do him none.
“Your water, Jaran.” I moved the glass closer to him, hoping he never learned how close he had come to being enchanted. I forced a smile. “Forgive me, you asked about living on Senna.”
Jaran’s bright smile felt like a reward for doing the right thing, although my insides churned at what father would think of my decision. “Please, tell me everything.”
I spoke about the life I’d left to come to court, grateful to Rannyl for shaking both my thoughts and tongue free on the matter.
“Tell me.” He shifted in his seat, leaning closer. “Do you think the sisters use magic at all?”
My pulse had calmed, but it sped up at his words – his suggestion. “Of course not, your highness, Jaran. They can’t use magic, it’s forbidden.”
